


He Grows On You, Like Cancer

by chipofftheoldblock



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse)
Genre: Honestly though so is Nate, M/M, Wade Wilson is a human disaster, but seriously this may have been the gayest movie I've ever seen, it was an experience and a fucking half, ryan PLEASE read this, truly we are blessed to be living in twentygayteen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-24 11:59:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14954277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chipofftheoldblock/pseuds/chipofftheoldblock
Summary: Wade had the most beautiful mind of anyone he'd ever known, Cable thought. It was just a shame that it was attached to his personality.Or:Cable learns to deal with the hot mess that is Wade Wilson.





	He Grows On You, Like Cancer

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Tiếng Việt available: [Tình Yêu Di Căn Như Ung Thư](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15072746) by [Cheshire_Bui](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshire_Bui/pseuds/Cheshire_Bui), [thegirl_gcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirl_gcat/pseuds/thegirl_gcat)



> I guess this is kinda an AU? Because I'm just disregarding the midcredits scene with the time machine being fixed.

On a bad decision scale of 1 to 10, Cable was currently putting the choice to save Wade Wilson and stay in the past permanently somewhere in the low hundreds.

An explosion made the ground rumble, and he ground his teeth. Make that high hundreds.

"Cable! Hey!" Wade, nearby. Standing on the rooftop of the next building, waving his arms above his head and, even though he had his mask on, Cable could  _feel_ the dumbass grin he had on his face. "Did you see that one?"

"Fuck you, shithead!" He yelled back.

Quiet mission, his ass. Wade had said,  _C'mon, Cable, it'll be fun, all we have to do is take out one little mob boss and we get paid._ One little fucking - turned out to be the biggest crimelord in New York, and while Cable might be relatively new to this time, he got the feeling that criminals everywhere were the same. They didn't like being fucking blown up.

Right on cue, the rooftop door by Wade slammed open and men in suits with big guns poured out onto the rooftop and began firing. "What in the fuck -" Wade fell over just as Cable ducked behind a wall.

More gunfire. Wade shrieked and swore again, and Cable smirked ever so slightly. Maybe this job had been worth taking after all.

 

"They shot me in the  _ass_ , Cable." Wade whined, later. "I have a hole in my left ass cheek. And that was the nicer ass cheek too - what if it's deformed forever?"

They were back at the mansion, now. When they'd gotten back, blood-splattered and filthy, Colossus had given them both disapproving looks ("Not good to encourage Wade, Cable." He'd said, frowning down at Wade. Wade had given him a horrifying grin back, more bullet hole than man by that point) and sent them both straight to clean up. Cable had tried to find somewhere quiet in the mansion, away from Wade, but the man had a way of finding him that was borderline uncanny. And now they were both sitting on the couch, watching some shitty reality TV show.

"It already was." He took a swig of his beer.

Wade gasped, covering his mouth and fanning himself. "Oh my, have you been  _staring_?" He fluttered his eyelashes so atrociously that Cable was tempted, for half a moment, to stab him in the eyes.

He contented himself with instead rolling his eyes and looking back to the TV, where some dickhole was trying to decide which woman to give a rose to. Apparently this was what passed for entertainment in the 21st century? He'd asked if there was literally anything else to watch, but Wade had looked horrified and insisted that this was  _the height of 21st century entertainment, old man, I don't know what you do for fun in the future but this is the be all and end all of drama_ and so they were watching it.

(Also, he'd tried to change the channel and Wade had immediately broken the remote so he couldn't so. Yeah. He was kinda fucked either way.)

"Are you seeing this? He just gave a rose to  _Sydney_!" Cable felt a kind of absurd giggle threaten to escape him, and only managed to avoid it by flopping his head back, closing his eyes, and pressing the cool beer can to the bridge of his nose.  _Christ_ , when had this become his life? Less than a month ago, he'd been fighting just to barely survive, and now -

"Oh, this is fucking bullshit! What the shit? _Helen_?"

Maybe he should have let Wade die.

The sound of fabric on fabric - Wade was moving. And then -

"Wade."

"Yeah, Robot-Cop?"

"Fucking - I shouldn't even have to ask - are your feet in my fucking lap?"

"Sure are, sugarcake."

Gritted teeth. It seemed to be a running theme around Wade. "Move them."

Wade settled down deeper against the arm of the couch, rubbing his feet into Cable's lap further. "Nah, I'm comfortable here." Then one foot tried to get a little too comfortable with part of Cable's anatomy, and he'd had enough.

"I will cut your feet off, Wilson."

No movement, until Cable sat up and went for the knife at his hip.

"Fine, you spoilsport. I can't believe you're not a cuddler."

Cable drained the rest of his beer, standing up and heading into the kitchen.

"Hey, can you get me a beer?"

"Get fucked." But he lobbed a beer can through the doorway into the living room, bouncing it perfectly off of Wade's head.

 

The next day, Cable delicately wedged a screwdriver under a metal plate on one of his guns. Careful, precise movements were key - any wrong move could prove disastrous, given how volatile the inner workings of the gun were - 

"Hey bestie, what are we up to?"

Cable very carefully did not jump, did  _not_ blow them both to hell, but his metal fingers squeezed the screwdriver handle so tightly that it cracked.

"Wow, you have a lot of guns." Wade was still right next to his ear, and Cable was having to try really fucking hard to not stab him with the screwdriver. "Overcompensating for something?"

 But his stunted survival skills must have kicked in at that point, because he wandered around to the other side of the workbench and hopped up on it, sitting cross-legged and watching Cable work.

Cable eyed him warily for a moment, then went back to fixing the gun.

The silence proved to be too much for Wade, who started, "You know how the Professor and all the big names are never here? I asked the red son where they are and apparently they're in Hawaii right now. Fucking Hawaii. Do you know have any idea what I would do to be in Hawaii right now? Hah, actually, most of it I'd probably just do anyway -"

Cable tuned the individual words out, turning Wade from an annoyance into an odd kinda white noise. It was weird, but Wade was actually growing on him. He was finding he liked having him around sometimes, which was alarming - maybe it was Stockholm Syndrome? But there was something - oddly reliable about Wade. He was reliably annoying.

And his mind - his mind was beautiful. Wade had the most beautiful mind of anyone he'd ever known, Cable thought. It was just a shame that it was attached to his personality.

People tended to have depressingly similar minds, in general. Oh, sure, you got a bit of variation, but it was all the same base pattern. Easy to tune out. Easy to ignore. But Wade's mind  _shone_. Wildly careening, neurons popping and pinging in intricate patterns - like a pinball machine caught in a tornado. When Wade was nearby, he couldn't help but notice him.

"- and are you even listening to me right now? Why was I even speaking if the author wasn't going to focus on me?"

"Hmm?" Cable made a noncommittal noise, popping the metal plate on the gun back in place and looking up. "Were you saying something, gorgeous?"

"I'm switching to Netflix." Wade said.

 

"You guys don't have pancakes in the future."

Nate thought this might be the first time Wade had ever actually sounded serious in his presence. "Too much of a luxury."

"So you've actually, honestly never had pancakes. Or bacon."

"We don't even have pigs."

Wade gaped at him. "Don't even have - what the fuck is the point of living without bacon? What do you even eat - rat?" Then he waved his arms. "Forget it, I don't even want to know. I'm making pancakes and bacon right now."

Cable set down the gun he was polishing. "Guess I could eat."

He followed Wade through the mansion, mumbled phrases like "No fucking pancakes,", "No fucking  _bacon_ ," trailing back to him.

It was instant chaos in the kitchen. Wade had donned a 'Kiss the Cook' apron, and looked hopeful for a moment, but Cable had just given him a  _look_ and settled against the kitchen island to watch him cook.

After narrowly dodging a cloud of flour for the the third time, he said, "Are pancakes normally this messy?"

"Hey, you watch your tone knock-off Winter Soldier!" Wade turned, gesturing wildly with a spatula. "Cooking is a delicate art, and I am da Vinci, Picasso - shit -" The spatula had knocked the bottle of milk off the counter. Wade scrambled wildly to catch it, but Cable just sighed and caught it with telekinesis with a gesture.

"How the shit did you do that?"

"What? You didn't know?" The bottle floated back onto the counter. Wade looked between it and Cable comically.

"The movie was really vague on the whole thing - you're fucking telekinetic? Do you know how much easier my life would be if you just used that all the time?"

"Telepathic, too, if that helps."

" _What the fuck_ -" Wade was only interrupted by the pancakes bursting into flames.

 

"So you can do all the mind controlling shit, huh?" Cable was honestly kind of horrified by how quickly Wade was eating. He hadn't even taken a bite of his (questionably-cooked) pancakes and Wade's plate was already half clear.

"Not really." He took a bite of a pancake with bacon. "Huh. Tastes -"

"I swear to sweet baby Jesus, if you say rat I will  _scream_ -"

"It tastes better than it looks."

"Thank you." Apparently this was good enough praise for Wade, who looked incredibly smug. "So you can't do all the mind controlling shit?"

"I guess in theory, but my powers are limited. I need them mostly to hold back the virus." He gestured at his metal arm.

Wade pulled a face. "Well, that's some Marvel hand-waving bullshit right there if I ever heard it."

There was sweet, blessed silence for a few moments, then: "Limited powers? So - can you like, _kinda_ read minds? What number am I thinking of right now?"

Cable frowned as though in concentration. "69."

"What the fuck - you  _are_ psychic!"

"That was a guess. You're just immature."

 

Once they'd finished eating, Wade was straight out the door, leaving Cable with the dishes. But before he fully escaped, Cable spoke. "Wade."

"Yeah, shortstack?" He paused in the doorway, half turning back.

Cable hesitated for a moment, then said, "Nathan. My name - it's not Cable. It's Nathan."

What was he expecting? Another 'Lip Balm Moment', as Wade kept calling them? Instead Wade froze for half a moment, and then let out an ugly cackle. "Your name is  _Nate?_ "

 

Gunfire. Nate ducked down behind an ruined wall. An explosion shook mortar loose, rumbling the ground like hellish thunder. His hands tightened around the gun he held. A short, sharp breath. Then another. And then up and over the wall.

And Hope was, suddenly, inexplicably, standing in the middle of the battlefield. "Hope -" The word torn from his lips.

She turned and waved at him, her red hair a slash of blood against the grey of war. Then the gunfire started again, a line of divots of earth being kicked up along the ground. A line heading right for Hope. "Hope - baby - run -"

But she just smiled at him, still waving even as the first bullet tore through her.

"No -"

 

Nate gasped awake.

 

Just another dream. He sat up, scrubbing his hands across his face and pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. Just another dream, just another dream... He repeated it like a mantra until his jaw stopped clenching, his hands stopped shaking. Until he felt strong enough to take his hands away from his eyes.

He leaned over, turning on the lamp. Checked the clock. 3 in the morning. Great. He wasn't going to be sleeping for a while, so he swung his legs out of bed and pulled on sweatpants, heading out of his room to prowl the manor.

He didn't know what he was looking for, but he found it when the kitchen light was on already. Wade stood facing away from the door, palms pressed against the edge of the counter, whole body one long line of tension.

"Not in the mood to be called a fuckface right now, Nate." He said.

"I'm just looking for some water." Nate said, getting a glass.

Wade turned, then, surveying Nate with an odd look Nate had never seen on him before. "Even the big scary android gets nightmares too, huh?" His voice lacked the usual - usual pep, Nate thought, something about it too flat, too dead. Bitter in a way that didn't suit him.

Nate sipped his water, swallowed. It didn't get rid of the tightness in his throat, but maybe nothing could. "My daughter." He said, finally. "I see her die. Different ways, every time, but..." He trailed off, taking another sip of water to cover the thickness in his voice. Hope was  _alive_. He knew she was. But - he needed to make sure she'd stay that way.

Wade moved to stand beside Nate, then, pressed together from shoulder to thigh, a line of heat scorching Nate's left side. Oddly, Nate didn't feel the need to move.

"I see Ness. Dying. Over and over. You know, if I'd thrown that fucking cream cheese spreader three inches to the left..." Wade let out an ugly, self-deprecating laugh then. "Jesus, we're both pretty fucked up."

Nate couldn't help it - he let out a half-laugh too. Weren't they just a fucking pair?

Wade was still warm against his left side. Nate found himself hoping he never moved.

 

The mansion was silent as they made their way back to their rooms. Nate's room was first, and after opening the door he stood uncomfortably in the door frame, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Wade -" He swallowed back the part of himself yelling that this was a Bad Idea "- do you want to come in? For the night?"

"I'm not really feeling like Terminator dick right now."

"Jesus - not what I meant -" Cable pinched the bridge of his nose. "Nothing weird. I meant that it's easier to sleep with company. Less nightmares."

"Sure. Whatever." Wade shouldered past him into the room. "I get the left side of the bed."

Nate rolled his eyes, but a hint of a smile found his face as he closed the bedroom door.

 

They didn't talk about it in the morning.

 

They didn't talk about it any of the other times, either.

 

One day Nate walked out into the living room, looked at Wade Wilson sitting on the couch in his pink tank top, jorts, and  _fucking_ crocs, and realised  _Fuck, I'm in love with this guy_. He didn't talk about that either.

 

They were in the middle of another mission when Nate felt Wade's mind blink out. "Wade!" He yelled, headshotting two more guys with guns before whipping around frantically. Last he'd seen Wade, he'd been practically bouncing after a terrified henchman down under the underpass. Nate strained his powers, picking out five more enemies around him. But still no Wade. It was the work of a moment to take the five out, and then he was running down the on-ramp, dodging cars and searching for Wade.

And then his mind blinked back into existence.

"Wade!" He yelled again, following his mind to the base of a concrete pillar. It was a shitshow down here - the other guy must have had more than just a few grenades, because there was rubble everywhere. And - there was Wade, laying down, still in one piece, the guy dead next to him.

"Hi, Nate!" Wade sounded spacey as  _fuck_ , which wasn't really surprising, because -

"You have a piece of rebar through your head." Nate said flatly, kneeling down beside him.

Wade's mask's eyes went wide, hands going to up to grab at the rebar. "Woah. Not the first time it's happened, but still." Then he was reaching for Nate. "Hey, Nate. Nate. You gotta - you have to come in close -" Blood smeared fingers touched Nate's face, grazed back through the fine stubble of his undercut to splay around the back of his head, and normally he'd protest, but right now he was just grateful Wade was fine (even if he was an unkillable fucker).

Their faces were inches apart now, Nate looking down at Wade. He took a breath, licked his lips. And then Wade's hand touched his thigh.

Nate stiffened as Wade moved his hand up towards his ass and - grabbed one of his guns?

And shot some guy who was coming up behind him.

"You fuckwit." Nate growled, fondly, pulling the piece of rebar out of Wade's head.

 

Back at the mansion, later, showered and patched up, they were back on the couch again watching shitty reality TV. Wade had his feet in Nate's lap again, and Nate had a hand resting lightly on Wade's ankle.

It was funny, but - he was finding he didn't mind having Wade close.

"Wade." He said, not looking away from the TV as he spoke. "Try not to die again."

He could  _hear_ Wade roll his eyes. "It's not like it sticks." As if to emphasize his point, he poked Nate in the thigh with one foot.

"Seriously, Wilson. It feels weird not having your mind fucking up my brain."

"You can feel my mind all the time? That's so romantic." Wade clasped his hands over his heart. "Is that Careless Whisper I hear playing in the background?"

Nate rolled his eyes, but indulged him. "You're like an alarm blaring up here, handsome." He tapped his forehead. "Kinda hard to miss."

"Wow, can't a man get any privacy? There are somethings that I'd like to keep private in here, if you know what I mean." Wade winked obnoxiously.

Nate snorted. "Don't worry, I can't read you - I think the healing factor fucks it up. I can only feel you there."

Wade blinked a couple of times, quiet for the first time. "Wait, so you actually can't read my mind?"

Nate looked over at him. "What? No."

Wade had gone very still. "Oh my god." He said. He sat up, pulling his ankles out of Nate's lap. "You don't know."

Nate frowned, confused. "I don't know...?"

And then Wade was surging across the couch and kissing him, hand curled around the back of his neck tight.

Right. Fuck. He didn't know.

 

They barely made it back to Nate's room. Nate felt like a teenager all over again, slamming the door shut and then pushing Wade back up against it.

"You're telling me that we could have been doing this for months?" He growled, low in his throat, then went for Wade's throat. Stubble rasped against scarred skin.

"Holy - shit - I have been thinking the most  _obnoxious_ dirty thoughts at you for the last month." Wade let out a soft groan. "I thought you were getting them and just - oh, shit - just ignoring them."

Nate bit at the point where Wade's neck met his jaw. "You're way too fucking coherent right now."

 

"Wow, for an old guy you know you can really - oh, fuck, fuck, fuck - you can really get going." Wade gasped out later, as Nate pushed into him.

Nate caught Wade's lips with his own, poured everything he had into the kiss. "I love you, you human fucking disaster." He whispered the words against his lips, worshipped them into his skin, fucked them into his body. Wade gave no sign he heard them, but then, who'd blame him?

 

"You know, I do too."

"Hmmm?" Nate was almost too boneless to do anything other than look down at the man draped across his chest. "You do what too?"

"The - you know - the L-word. The love thing." Wade couldn't meet his eyes. "I mean, after Ness I guess I just didn't think there could be anyone else, but then you showed up with your metal Terminator arm and your big-ass gun and your angry face and then you put up with me, and -"

"Christ Wade, do you ever shut up?" But Nate was smiling as he said it, smiling as he kissed him.

Smiling as he felt the familiar beautiful insanity of Wade's mind settle, just for a moment, into the words:  _I love you_.

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all, Deadpool 2 was one of the gayest films I have ever seen in my entire life and we were truly blessed by it. I keep having honest-to-god flashbacks to that lip balm scene. It haunts my days. It haunts me wherever I go. I will never be happy with another movie again.
> 
> Side note: I have never before had the dilemma of whether I am putting too _little_ flirting into a character. What the fuck, Nate?


End file.
